


your hands are mine to hold

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Comfort Sex, F/M, also a little bit of fluff, season 8 missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: On their first night in Winterfell, Daenerys is feeling out of sorts. Jon comes to comfort his queen.





	your hands are mine to hold

**Author's Note:**

> Just a missing moment set after their arrival to Winterfell, but before they ride the dragons. Let them fuck in the castle, I say! And I just want to wrap Dany up in a blanket and protect her from these ungrateful Northerners.
> 
> Thank you to aliciutza for the moodboard, she's da best :) I wrote this pretty quickly and begrudgingly, ngl, but I wanted to get this finished prior to Sunday so please forgive any of the likely many mistakes.

* * *

He wasn’t coming.

Of course, he wasn’t. She tried to tell herself it was fine. Why would he come to her chambers? It was their first night in Winterfell. His home. He was back with his family, with siblings he hadn’t seen in years. Siblings he’d long feared dead. If he hadn’t expended all of his energy just from catching up with them, no doubt he was exhausted from the long march North—and his bannermen’s public castigation of him in the Great Hall.

At the memory, her blood churned with her outrage on his behalf, and for herself. She wanted to comfort him, to curl up against his chest as she had nearly every night the past fortnight and hold him, until she felt his weariness seep from his bones. She wanted his presence now as much for her own comfort as she did for his.

She shouldn’t be upset. She’d left the small, tense feast Lady Sansa had thrown in her honor earlier that night (quite begrudgingly, Dany could sense, and not without more muted griping about their food stores) with the implication she needed to rest. By not coming to her, Jon would only be respecting her wishes for sleep.

Still, Dany felt more alone here in his home than she had in a long time. Winterfell was cold, far colder than she’d expected, from the chill in its halls to the chill in its people. On their journey here, Jon had enthralled her with tales of his childhood home, how the rooms were heated by the natural hot springs underground, but even huddled by the fire now, Dany couldn’t get warm.

She’d taken a bath earlier, to rinse off the dirt and grime of their march, the water scalding hot; she’d stayed in the tub as long as she could, until the water eventually turned tepid. Her hair was still damp, making her tremble despite the fur blanket she’d stripped from her bed to wrap herself in. Dany scooted closer to the hearth, pulling her wet hair over her shoulder to try to dry it by the heat of the fire.

At the sudden knock on her door, she gave a start and craned her neck around just as it swung inward to reveal Jon. As he quickly shut the door behind him, her heart lifted.

“Jon,” she said. Lingering at the door, he made a sheepish face.

“Forgive me. I should have waited for your permission to enter, but—”

“You didn’t want anyone to see you,” she finished, trying to hedge the disappointment from her voice. She understood his hesitations, the appearances they must need to upkeep, at least for the time being. If his men suspected any impropriety in their relationship, any hidden ulterior in why he’d bent the knee, they could well have a mutiny on their hands. Things were already volatile and uncertain as it was.

“Aye,” Jon said regretfully. Then he blew out a breath. “Regardless, you should really have some guards stationed outside your chambers.”

Dany arched an eyebrow. “Why? Am I really that unsafe in your home?” Judging by the murderous glances she’d received in the Great Hall and then at supper, yes.

Jon sighed, pushing off the door. “At this point, I think I should put guards outside _my_ chambers.”

With a sympathetic smile, Dany stood from her spot at the hearth, keeping the fur wrapped around her as she padded to him, barefoot. The stones were cold, and she shivered. He reached for her, grasping the edges of the blanket in his hands. “Are your chambers suitable? I can bring your more wood,” he offered, glancing at the waning fire.

“Don’t you have men to do that for you?” she teased. He smiled, finally, pulling her closer by the blanket.

“You’re mad if you think I’d let another man into your personal chambers,” he growled good-naturedly. She laughed, and he smiled again, fingering the strands of damp hair draped over the fur. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead on hers. She both heard and felt his weary sigh.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Dany closed her eyes, already knowing what he meant. “I’m so sorry. About Viserion. And Bran...how he told you, I—”

“I’m all right,” she whispered. A lie. Her throat tightened at the thought—Viserion, enslaved by the Night King, trapped even in death—but she tried to push past it. “Bran was right to tell me. Us. We don’t have any time to waste now. We should start drawing up plans and strategies—”

“Don’t,” Jon interrupted, but he spoke softly. He lifted his head to meet her confused gaze. “You don’t have to do that here. Not with me.” He cupped her face and smoothed her hair back. She was surprised to feel a tear on her cheek. “Dany,” he said, pained. “Tell me what I can do.”

Wriggling her hand through the opening of the blanket, she hastily wiped at her cheeks. She felt foolish and weak. Since arriving at Winterfell, she’d been on uneven ground. She hated it. She felt like a little girl again, much like the day Viserys had sold her to the Khal. A new world, a new culture, and a new people, people who once again regarded her with disdain and disregard.

But she wasn’t that scared little girl anymore. She was a dragon, and she would not cower. Not out there. But in here, with him…

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, and she hated how supplicant and fragile she sounded. But she felt a gnawing helplessness opening inside her belly, and she didn’t know what to do but cling to him harder. Still, she tempered her plea. “Don’t leave, I mean. Stay.”

His face softened as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. “I wasn’t planning to go anywhere just yet.”

She lifted her face to his, mouth soft and searching. He took it in a kiss, lips parting to graze his tongue to hers. Her lips trembled as he kissed her, and she opened like a flower in bloom. Snaking her arms around his neck, she went up on her tiptoes, hungry for his kiss. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and Jon unwound it from around her, letting it drop to the floor as he plundered her mouth. There was an edge to his bite, as if he had grown as desperate for her in their mutual abstinence as she had for him.

Without the fur, Dany was left in only her bed robes, but this time the chill didn’t penetrate her. Jon’s tongue on hers stoked a fire that had been simmering for days, and now it erupted like an inferno inside her, blood singing through her veins all the way out to the tips of her fingers and her toes. With a quiet moan, she grabbed his face and slotted her lips against his to taste him, tangling her tongue with his. Jon growled and bit at her bottom lip. At the predatory sound, Dany shivered, knowing what was to come. _The wolf’s blood_ , she thought deliriously, breaking the kiss with a gasp when he tore open her robe.

Jon jerked the fabric down her arms, exposing her bare breasts to the cold. Her nipples beaded painfully in the frigid air, but he immediately buried his face in her bosom, tongue and teeth on her goose-prickled flesh. “Jon,” she whimpered when he sucked a nipple between his lips.

To her disappointment, he tempered his hunger, gently laving her breast with his tongue. She squirmed against him impatiently, even as her thighs grew slick with want. She didn’t want soft now, not with her own appetite piqued, not when she still felt like an open wound. She wanted fire. She wanted to be savaged.

Dany fisted his hair, pulling his head up by the leather tie holding the raven locks back from his face. Eyes dark and hooded with lust, he regarded her questioningly, and in answer, she tugged at the ties at the throat of his leather tunic. Jon took over for her and yanked the garment over his head while she turned her attention to his trousers, hastily unlacing the front. Sinking to her knees, she tugged his breeches and small clothes down over his erection, belly tightening at the sight of his thick, darkly flushed cock. He bent over to help her in getting his vestments off along with his boots, but when he tried to bring her back to her feet, she resisted him.

“Dany,” he started, momentarily bewildered until she grabbed his firm buttocks in hand. She flicked her tongue over the head of his cock, tasting the salt of his seed, and he tensed against her. His head dropped back as she wrapped her lips around him. “Ah, _gods_.”

She sucked his cock into her mouth until her eyes watered, then she eased up, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed up and down his length. He grabbed a handful of her damp hair and twisted possessively, carefully thrusting into her mouth with quiet groans. She ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling the thick, bulging vein as he grew heavier. Lips stretched too wide, saliva gathered at the corners of her mouth and dribbled out, coating his cock. When her teeth caught on his tip, he groaned deep in his belly.

“ _Mercy_ ,” he gasped, stopping her with a warning pull of her hair. Dany let his heavy cock slip from her mouth, lips covered in spittle, and he urged her to her feet, hand still in her hair. He lifted her into his arms, hands cradling her arse as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her to the bed where he lowered her onto her back. Once he was above her, he seized her mouth in a kiss, his tongue in her mouth no doubt tasting the fruit of her efforts from only a moment ago. He groaned his appreciation and nipped at her bottom lip, teeth sharp and biting, making her gasp in surprise.

Then he moved down, lips leaving a wake of molten heat everywhere he kissed, over her breasts and down the slope of her belly. She sucked in a breath when he parted her legs, trembling even before he put his mouth on her cunt to sup. He was hungry, starved—a man denied a proper meal ever since the moment they’d left that boat.

He lapped up her honey eagerly, his tongue delving inside her for more. Her moans disturbed the quiet of the room, and she tangled her fingers in his disheveled hair to hold his head in place. She knew from all those nights on the sea that he wasn’t interested in going anywhere else, anyway, not till he’d had his fill.

He made quick work of her, his tongue lapping at the tender bud of her clitoris. Her body tightened, that fire blazing inside her so hot, she thought she might combust from the pleasure of it all. As she sang for him, cunt pulsing in gut-clenching waves, he licked her nether lips clean, then he was over top of her again, his wet mouth on hers, his tongue tart with the tang of her nectar, her musk clinging to his beard.

Jon pushed inside her, cock sinking into the plush channel of her cunt. He swallowed her sharp sigh, growling against her lips once his balls came to rest against the cleft of her arse. Then, easing out, he moved inside her slowly, his hips barely leaving hers in his shallow thrusts.

Dany clawed at his back, his arse, pulling him into her deeper. She dug her heels into his cheeks, feeling them flex with his restrained movements. But he was being too gentle, too deferential.

“Jon,” she breathed out, grazing her lips to his. His quick breaths were hot on her face. “Fuck me.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I am. But we can’t be as loud here as we were at sea.”

Frustrated, she arched into him, every inch of her pressing to him. _Consume me_ , she wanted to beg. _Make me forget this horrid place._

Instead, she pushed him away from her, feeling the loss of his cock between her legs, but not for long. Perplexed, Jon let her push him down onto the bed beside her and watched her climb on top, taking his cock in hand and sinking down onto it again. Once he was fitted inside her cunt, she began to ride him, hard and fast, the wet sounds of their coupling muted by the practiced snaps of her hips.

“Oh— _fuck_ ,” he grunted, head digging back into the mattress, chest heaving. His hands clasped at her thighs, keeping her seated as she bucked against him.

“ _Yes_ ,” she moaned, swiveling her hips.

“Dany,” he said, the sound strained. One word, but she understood the warning in it.

No, not yet. Once he was finished, he would have to leave, and she wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

She pulled on his shoulders, and he sat up with her, hugging her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Jon,” she gasped, her forehead pressed to his. Their breaths were ragged and loud between them, Jon panting with her every downward thrust on his cock. She closed her eyes tightly, scared to look, scared to let him go.

_Love me_ , she thought, desperate to keep him with her. _Don’t go, don’t slip away from me_.

But he was spilling inside her, his gasping breath her last warning. Dany kissed him, capturing his lips with hers, and sank down onto him, rocking in his lap as he emptied his seed at her womb.

“Dany,” he said again, breathless, sounding sated and unhurried now, the urgency gone. He nuzzled his face down to her neck where he rested his head on her shoulder, and he caught his breath, waiting for the fog of their lovemaking to dissipate.

“ _Avy jorrāelan,_ ” she told him, shaping the words against his ear like a prayer. It was foolish, cowardly even, but she’d taken to whispering it to him every night after they made love, when he was already drifting off to sleep. Only then could she be brave, and only then in a language he wouldn’t understand.

Jon lifted his head, his nose grazing her cheek. As he inhaled deeply, she felt the rise of his chest against her breasts, then he murmured in that husky burr of his, “I love you, too.”

Dany went still, her heart stopping. First with the fear that he’d understood her after all—but then it began to race, fluttering against her ribs. Warily, she turned her head toward him. “How…”

He held her gaze. “You said it on the ship so much, I finally asked Missandei what it meant.” Her eyes widened, a hot blush heating her face, and he smiled slightly. “Don’t worry. I think your secret is safe with her.”

She closed her eyes against her embarrassment, overcome with emotion. She felt raw from their lovemaking still, from the upheaval of coming here to this unwelcoming and frozen wasteland, and now from his declaration.

“It’s not her I’m worried about,” she said, deflecting, but already she felt a giddy happiness bubbling up inside her. Oh, it was dangerous to hope...

“Aye, your secret is safe with me, too.” His arms tightened around her. “ _You’re_ safe with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping Dany has a better go of it in episode 2...if not, oh well the Night King will take care of these assholes soon enough :)


End file.
